


you and me from the night before

by preciousthings



Series: i will hold onto you [1]
Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Future Fic, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, marriage pact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-30 03:45:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17216399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preciousthings/pseuds/preciousthings
Summary: “What about, if we’re both single in ten years on New Year’s, we marry each other.” Tommy makes a face, so Jon continues. “Like, you’re going to be in my life for at least the next ten years. I know that. You’re my best friend. So, like. Ten years. Tonight in 2019.”“Fuck it, sure,” Tommy says.And that’s how it starts.





	you and me from the night before

**Author's Note:**

> I LITERALLY CAN NOT STRESS ENOUGH HOW FICTIONAL THIS IS. super fictional. the most fictional. respect the fourth wall, keep it secret, keep it safe. 
> 
> huge thank yous to the small village of people who helped me get this fic to where it is right now: grace, lotts, ellie, meredith, dee, mel, rhia, amanda, and scout. i truly could not have finished this without you guys! 
> 
> just for clarity's sake, the fic (after the section in parenthesis) starts in late september/early october 2019! title from 'new years day' by taylor swift.

(Jon goes out expecting a normal New Year’s Eve. The plan is just to drink, and Jon’s on a personal mission to make Tommy smile.

Everything’s been a little off-kilter since Tommy and Katie broke off the engagement, and how could Jon blame him for being off after everything? He moved in with Lovett right before Christmas, and Jon’s seen more of him in those days than he had in the few weeks before it. He’s coming back to them, slowly, and Jon would do just about anything for him.

Including following him into a corner, off to the side and away from everyone else. It’s quieter here, and Jon doesn’t really know what Tommy wants, except he’s—leaning in, trying to kiss Jon.

Jon steps back before their lips touch, and—he’s been thinking about kissing Tommy since the last time they did this, back when it was just campaign stress getting the better of them, not letting it seep into their professional lives or even their social lives. Back when Jon had to separate his best friend Tommy from Campaign Tommy from the guy he was sleeping with. Before D.C., before the White House, before Katie.

Yeah, Jon’s been thinking about it a lot, but he can’t do it right now, when he’s sure he’s just Tommy’s way of trying to rebound with an easy target. He’s thinks he’s done a good job at compartmentalizing this: everything he knew he shouldn’t feel for Tommy anymore tucked into a box and stored somewhere in the back of his brain. He’d been trying to get over Tommy, because he thought that in no time, Tommy would be married, and he couldn’t keep feeling like this forever.

He’s been so fucking careful, and now this.

“Tommy,” he says quietly.

“Fuck,” Tommy says, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. “ _Fuck_.”

“It’s okay,” Jon says. “Tom, look at me. It’s okay.”

“It’s _not_ ,” Tommy backs up a few more steps. “I’m sorry.”

Jon takes a deep breath and a step toward Tommy. “We should talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. A month ago I thought I was getting married and now I’m not, and I’m still really fucked up about it, okay?” Tommy says, harsh.

“Do you want to—” Jon pauses, trying to word this carefully. “Would you rather hang out back at your place? Or mine? Less people, quieter, y’know…”

“You shouldn’t have to leave the party early because I’m fucking sad, dude,” Tommy says.

“I don’t mind,” Jon shrugs.

Tommy nods, a little timid, and they manage to grab their coats and slip out without anyone noticing they even left.

“I live closer,” Jon says. They walk in companionable silence, huddled close together for warmth, their jackets doing nothing against the bitter cold.

They’re rounding the last corner onto Jon’s block, when Tommy says, “Sorry I ruined your New Year’s.”

Jon shrugs. “You didn’t,” he says, and tries to find words to follow that, something to convey _any time I get with you is good_ and _I wouldn’t mind if every New Year’s was just the two of us_ and _all I want is for you to be happy_ , but nothing feels good enough, so he stays quiet.

Everything settles once they’ve both changed into sweats and t-shirts, lounging on the couch and drinking beers. Jon puts the TV on one of the New Year’s shows as background noise, because there’s still a half hour until midnight, and Tommy looks so—relaxed, so at ease here, stretched across Jon’s couch wearing one of Jon’s old Holy Cross t-shirts.

He could see every night being like this and the thought terrifies him. It can’t be like this, he’s spent too much time trying to convince himself of it. It _won’t_ be like this and if anything were to happen, it _would_ end badly because of the rebound aspect, Jon thinks, tries desperately to convince himself of that.

“What if like,” Tommy starts, then stops and throws back the last of his beer. “What if I’m always alone? Like, what if Katie was my only chance, and that was it?”

“You’re going to make some girl really happy one day,” Jon says. “I’m right, don’t try and fight it.”

“Someone,” Tommy corrects. “Guy or girl.”

Jon didn’t _know_. He did, in the sense that he used to sleep with Tommy semi-regularly, but not in the sense that he now considered guys to be a dating option for him.

“Someone,” Jon repeats, trying to ignore the way his stomach flipped, the way he’s feeling something akin to hope now, but—

It’s not going to happen, he reminds himself. Not now, probably not ever.

“I just wish I could, like, see the future. Know if I’ll actually settle down, you know?”

Jon nods, because he’s thought about it, he has. He’s thought about whether or not spending years hung up on his best friend ruined his chances at anything else, but he’s not about to tell Tommy that.

So, he’s blaming the alcohol, and not his heart, when he says, “What about, if we’re both single in ten years on New Year’s, we marry each other.” Tommy makes a face, so Jon continues. “Like, you’re going to be in my life for at least the next ten years. I know that. You’re my best friend. So, like. Ten years. Tonight in 2019.”

“Fuck it, sure,” Tommy says, and that’s how it starts.)

 

 

“I actually have a boyfriend,” Jon says to the girl—Ashley, or maybe Anna, he’s not entirely sure. “He’s getting drinks right now.”

She looks a little disappointed, and she picks her drink up off the table.

“Sorry,” he adds. She walks away without another word, and Jon looks down at his empty glass, wishing there were something in it so he doesn’t have to answer to—

“ _Interesting_ , Jon,” Lovett says, once Ashley-Anna is far enough away from them. “You’re gay now? Cool, cool, cool.”

“I’ve been bi for a long time, Jon. I don’t want—”

“News to me,” Lovett interrupts, even though it’s not, like, at all. He never really hid that, especially since Lovett had been so open with him since day one.

“—to talk about that right now.”

“Alright,” Lovett says, looking behind him, probably to see if Tommy’s coming back. He’s not, still standing at the bar. “Let’s talk about something else. Let’s talk about how you lied and said that you have a boyfriend at the bar getting your drink right now. Who’s at the bar getting us drinks? Oh right, Tommy.”

Jon can feel his face heating up, and he knows it’s not because the bar is warm. “Lovett, I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“But I have so many questions.”

“You get one question,” Jon says, because he’s pretty sure that no question Lovett asks is going to warrant the full answer right now.

“Is there a reason why you’ve turned down every person that’s hit on you since like, May? Do you have a secret person that you aren’t telling us about? Are you holding out for someone?”

“That’s three questions,” Jon sighs. “I, uh. No? Not really. Just—Me and Tommy have a ten-year marriage pact that ends on New Year’s and that’s—yeah.” It never gets easier to say out loud, to admit that this has been going on for ten years, unconsciously or not.

Lovett honest-to-God almost spits out the sip of his drink he’d just taken. “You and Tommy,” he starts, laughing to the point where he’s gasping. “You have a _marriage pact_.”

“If we’re both single this New Year’s,” Jon nods.

Lovett is still laughing. “That shouldn’t change anything, though? Like, it’s not like you’re—shit, Jon, you _want_ to marry him!”

“Not here, Lovett, please,” Jon says, practically begging.

“We’re coming back to all of this,” Lovett says. “You can’t just keep implying that someone who isn’t in on the joke is your boyfriend, though. It doesn’t work that way.”

“Hey,” Tommy says, coming back up to the table and fitting himself back in between the wall and Jon. He puts a new bottle for Jon and a new glass for Lovett on the table in front of them. Jon hadn’t even seen him coming, but he’s never been so thankful for his presence, both because this conversation can finally be over, and because he finally has another drink. “What’s going on?”

Lovett shoots Jon a look, as if to say _just_ _talk about it_ , but Jon takes a long sip from his new drink and ignores him.

“Nothing,” Lovett says. “Just talking about how Favs turned down someone who was clearly into him.”

“What?” Tommy says. “Dude, you’ve been doing that a lot lately.”

Jon’s almost 40; he’s getting tired of sleeping with people for the hell of it. “Can’t I just not be in the mood for a one night stand? Am I allowed to not want that?”

“How do you know that this one night stand wouldn’t turn into something more? Don’t you want to settle down?” Lovett asks, sending a very pointed look in Jon’s direction. If it weren’t already obvious that Lovett has motives here, it has to be now.

The only time Jon came close to settling down, he panicked and backed out and—he shrugs. “Eventually, yeah.” It only feels like he’s lying a little bit, except the lie isn’t about wanting to settle down, it’s about the specifics, _who_ he wants to settle down with. “Look, can we drop this?”

Next to Jon, Tommy nods, and turns toward Lovett. “When is Ronan going to be in town again?” he asks, and Jon is so thankful that the attention is finally off him.

“Next week, if he can stop trying to save the world for that long,” Lovett says. “It’s been a while since he’s been out here and Pundit misses him.”

“You’re allowed to say you miss him, too, you know,” Jon says.

Lovett shrugs. “I still talk to him every day, like, we text when he’s not busy and we play games together at night. I think I’ve just gotten used to it at this point because it’s been eight years of this back and forth, right, and I still have him in, like, every sense of the word and I love him more than like, everything, so I don’t really—I don’t know.” He throws back the rest of what was in his first glass. “Can we talk about something that isn’t my perpetual long-distance relationship?”

Jon thinks they may have hit a nerve with this, something Lovett never really talks about, but something he’s clearly thought about a lot. Jon wants to say that he’s never seen two people more in love before, and that if any couple is going to make it, it’s them, but Lovett wants to change the subject, so he just nods and lets Tommy carry the conversation for the rest of the night.

 

 

A few hours, and several drinks later, Tommy Lyfts back to Jon’s house with him, which had always been the plan because his car is there and Lucca is there, and he’s really not in any state to drive home right now, anyway. They paced themselves together when it came to drinks, and Jon feels fine enough right now, but he knows he couldn’t pass a breathalyzer.

Jon unlocks the door and the dogs run toward them. Tommy kneels down once they’re just inside to pet both of them. “I’ll take them out,” he says.

“Thanks,” Jon says, smiling. He goes into the living room to get Leo’s leash and spots Lucca’s where Tommy must have left it on the couch, so he picks that up too. He gets Leo’s leash on him easily while Tommy still has to fight with Lucca to get hers on.

“Be back in a few,” Tommy says, and Jon tosses him the house keys in his pocket so he can get back in when he’s done.

Jon’s in the kitchen, drinking a Diet Coke and scrolling through Twitter when Tommy gets back. He hears the dogs running across the hardwood before he sees Tommy peek his head into the doorway.

“Hey,” Jon says.

“Your dog is fucking nuts,” Tommy says. “Lucca is exhausted but Leo would have caught the tennis ball all night if I kept throwing it.”

“Thanks for taking him out,” Jon says. He opens the fridge, “Want a drink?”

“Water?”

Jon grabs a water bottle and tosses it to Tommy.

“Thanks,” Tommy says.

“Tonight was fun,” Jon says, trying to fill the silence more than anything else.

“It was,” Tommy nods.

“Do you think Lovett and Ronan are okay? Lovett seemed, like, weird when we brought it up.”

“They’re solid,” Tommy says. “Just, like, timing. Being long distance for as long as they have is just starting to take a toll, I think.”

“But if anyone will be okay, it’s them,” Jon says.

“I always thought you’d be the first one to settle down and get married, now I think Lovett might beat us both to it even if we marry each other.”

“You thought I’d be married first?” Jon asks.

Tommy shrugs. “Yeah, seemed like you and Amy were the real deal for a while. You talked about proposing.”

“Thought it’d be you,” Jon says, ignoring Tommy’s bringing up his ex. It’s been a little while since Jon came within hours of proposing to her because he thought it was the right thing to do. He loved her, he really did, but as he looked at the ring and really thought about what he wanted, it felt like he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life, not one of the best decisions.

It’s not a coincidence that all of this happened as Jon realized that he did a worse job than he thought at getting over Tommy for good. Because, like, he hadn't. At all.

“You overestimate my ability to stay in relationships. I mean, nothing’s ever really gone my way. This—” Tommy pauses to gesture between them. “Is basically the longest relationship I’ve ever been in. And it’s not even actually a relationship. Just, like, a really good friendship with vague idea of what my future could be.”

Tommy doesn’t talk about the pact often, has never referred to it as a relationship before right now, and Jon has enough self control to not say exactly what’s on his mind, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting—

“Can I kiss you?” Tommy asks, abrupt, and Jon nods, doesn’t even have time to get words out before Tommy kisses him, pushing him back against the counter. He wonders if Tommy felt his brief hesitation, before he let himself have this.

Jon hasn’t kissed Tommy since 2007, and so much has changed since then, but there’s still this; there’s Tommy’s hand on his jaw, pulling him impossibly close, their bodies flush against each other, and this is still so, so familiar.

“What,” Jon breathes. “What do you want?”

“Whatever you want,” Tommy says, low. “Whatever, I just— _Jon_.”

“Want you, Tom,” Jon says, as Tommy kisses a line down his jaw, his neck. Jon slips his hand under the hem of Tommy’s t-shirt and closes his eyes. “Just, _fuck_ —whatever you want.”

“Okay,” Tommy says, and he pulls Jon back in for a kiss. He rolls his hips against Jon’s, slowly, and Jon slides a finger below Tommy’s waistband. It’s so—and he’s—

“Bedroom,” Tommy pants, barely pulling back. Jon is still pressed against him, feels the rise and fall of Tommy’s chest against against his own. “C’mon, upstairs,” he adds, when Jon hasn’t even made the slightest effort to move from where they’re standing.  

Tommy takes Jon’s hand and Jon follows him toward the stairs. He’s okay with letting Tommy take the lead tonight, it wouldn’t be unlike most of the other times they’d been together.

 

 

Jon wakes up the next morning to an empty bed and a pulsing headache. It’s a little after 10, later than he likes to sleep in. He rolls over, facing the empty spot to his right, and he swears Tommy was there when he fell asleep, he remembers Tommy’s arm around his waist, his back to Tommy’s chest. It _happened_ , and he shouldn’t feel so bummed that he woke up alone, but he’s going to have to deal with all of this now.

He reaches behind him for his phone and scrolls through everything he missed while he slept: more emails than anyone should ever have to check on a Sunday morning, a few messages in the work Slack, Tommy and Lovett going back and forth in their group chat, a message from Lovett saying _i’m coming over at like noon be awake_ , and one from Tommy that says _Woke up early and couldn’t fall back asleep. Took both dogs out for a run! I’ll bring coffee back_.

He feels better about the waking up alone thing, but that doesn’t change the headache. He’s old enough that he can’t drink as much as he did last night and wake up without feeling the effects of it anymore. Tylenol would probably help, but that means having to get up, and Jon prefers the warmth of his bed over anything else right now, thank you very much. He burrows back under the covers and closes his eyes.

The next time he opens them, squinting out of one eye, it’s because there’s a dog on top of him. He blinks a few times, adjusting to being awake, and sees Lucca, not Leo, laying on his chest. Leo is curled up next to him, and Tommy’s leaning against the doorframe. He must have quietly been trying to lure Lucca off of Jon, but now he’s just standing there, quiet, a small smile on his face. There’s sunlight streaming in from the guest room across the hall, illuminating Tommy, and he looks—fuck.

It feels like something out of a dream, maybe, and Jon wants it all so badly his chest hurts just thinking about it. This is what he wants when he thinks of settling down, and this could be his reality. It _might_ be his reality eventually, but that _might_ is too big and unknown. He can picture so many mornings just like this, blinking awake with both dogs around him, Tommy having already gone for a run and come back home, waiting for him to wake up. But this is Tommy’s backup plan. If nothing else works out, Tommy will have this, but Jon wants it no matter what, he just has to—

“Morning,” Tommy says.

“Hey,” Jon says, voice still rough with sleep. He sits up against the headboard and lets Lucca curl up on his lap.

“How’d you sleep?” Tommy asks.

“Pretty good. You? You were up early.”

Tommy nods, “I never sleep in anymore, you know that.”

“Thanks for taking Leo out, though,” Jon says.

“No problem,” Tommy says.

It’s quiet in the weird kind of way that happens sometimes, when it’s the morning after and you don’t quite know where you stand with that person anymore. Jon didn’t think he’d have to question where he stands with Tommy. That had never been a problem before.

“I should get—” Tommy starts.

“We should probably—”  Jon says, at the exact same time. They both stop in their tracks, and Jon laughs to himself. “You first,” he says.

“I should get going. I have some shit to do today, just like, dumb errands,” Tommy says. “What were you going to say?”

“Nothing,” Jon says, lying. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

“See you,” Tommy says, waving, and calling Lucca toward him.

Jon should probably go grocery shopping, now that Tommy mentions dumb errands.

 

 

Jon’s headache hasn’t gone away in the hour or so since Tommy went home, somehow it’s just gotten more pounding and present, even with the Advil he took. He’s trying and failing to reply to some emails he’s procrastinated opening for too long when Lovett unlocks his back door and walks into the kitchen with Pundit trailing behind him. He’s been doing this for so long that Jon doesn’t even blink at it anymore.

“You look like hell,” Lovett says, in place of a greeting. He drops down into a chair across the table from Jon and slides a coffee across to him. Jon is 2-for-2 in best friends bringing him coffee today, and he thinks that maybe this is why he still keeps them around after all this time.

“I can’t drink like I’m 28 anymore,” Jon says. He’s mourning his youth, a little bit. “This is the worst headache I’ve ever had.”

“I feel great,” Lovett says. Of course he _wouldn’t_ have the hangover from hell right now.

“Lucky you,” Jon mumbles, and takes one more look at his laptop before giving up and closing it. The emails can wait a little longer.

“I want to talk about your Tommy thing,” Lovett says. (Jon should have seen this coming, really.)

“I want to talk about literally anything else,” Jon says, (It’s especially true after last night.)

“You can’t just tell me that you have a marriage pact with Tommy and then never talk about it again,” Lovett says. “You know how curious I am, Jon.”

“What else is there to say that I didn’t tell you already? If Tommy and I are both single on New Year’s, we’re probably getting married. That’s literally all there is to it.”

“Okay, but,” Lovett takes a deep breath. “One: why? Two: whose idea was it? Three: are you actually staying single on purpose? Four: why would either of you agree to marry a guy that you’ve never actually been involved with? I know you’ve both been with guys, but marrying one who’s only been your best friend for years seems like a pretty big jump.”

“You really have been thinking about this,” Jon rolls his eyes. “It was my idea. We were—really fucking drunk, it was New Year’s Eve, and it was, like, a month after Tommy and Katie broke up. You remember how he was when he moved in with you, right? So like, _that_ Tommy. He, uh, he tried to kiss me and—”

“He _what_?” Lovett interrupts.

“He tried kissing me,” Jon shrugs. “Tommy and I had a thing, years ago. There’s the answer to your fourth question.”

“Wait a second, you and Tommy had a _thing_ , and I’m just finding out about it _now_?!”

Jon feels his cheeks heating up, and imagines this must be karma for all the times he’s made fun of how easily Tommy goes red. “It was all campaign stress. We were—I don’t know, we had fun. And then Tommy met Katie, so we stopped.”

“Campaign stress, huh,” Lovett wiggles his eyebrows. “I was on a campaign too, and I wasn’t sleeping with my best friend the entire time because I was stressed. I wasn’t really sleeping with anyone. By your stress logic, Ronan and I started hooking up because of ‘life stress’ or something.”

“Good for you,” Jon says, rolling his eyes. “We’re in very different situations.”

“Yeah, like, you’re avoiding dating other people to marry the guy you’re in love with, and I could marry the guy I’m in love with if he’d just say yes,” Lovett says. “But it’s fine. We’re fine.”

“Wh—I never said anything about love!” Jon says, sputtering. “We’re coming back to whatever that was about Ronan, but I don’t love Tommy. I—he’s my best friend. We were hooking up and maybe I had a little bit of a thing for him, but I tried to get over him. The night that we made the pact, I had to back off because I _hadn’t_ gotten over him and I couldn’t be a rebound and inevitably have my heart broken by him because I’m just his backup plan.”

“Sounds like something someone who loves Tommy would say,” Lovett says.

“There might have,” Jon says, but stops himself short of finishing. Lovett gives him a look, as if to say _go on, you aren’t getting out of this now_ , so it’s either keep going, or stall until Lovett literally pries it out of him. It’s hard to admit this to anyone, but especially to Lovett, who’s experienced the kind of ridiculously perfect, whirlwind-at-times romance that Jon couldn’t even _dream_ of having. It’s one thing to just be in love with Tommy. It’s a completely different thing to have Lovett telling him point-blank.

There’s no point in denying it here, because if anyone in Jon’s life knows what it’s like to be in love with someone for so long it seeps into everything else, it’s Lovett.

“There might have been a point in time where I thought I was over him, between that New Year’s and both of us dating other people, but I think I loved him then, and I know I love him now.”

“Ah, there it is,” Lovett smirks.

“Stop,” Jon groans. “It never meant as much to him as it did to me. I know that much now. Just let it go.”

“You haven’t,” Lovett raises an eyebrow. “Also, I know he slept over here last night because he’s a bad liar and his sunglasses are on the counter. I wasn’t going to ask you about it, but I think the bite mark on your neck is answering any questions I might have had.”

“Jesus,” Jon mumbles. He hadn’t even realized that Tommy left a mark last night. “I’m not over him, okay? And it’s pathetic, so just let me be pathetic in peace.”

“Have I ever let you do anything in peace since you hired me?”

Jon rolls his eyes, even though Lovett has a point, and Jon isn’t about to admit that he’s actually a lot less annoyed about Lovett’s prying than he’d like to let on right now.

“I just want you and Tommy to be, like, happy,” Lovett says. “I wasn’t trying to get involved, but now that I am—”

“Absolutely not,” Jon says. “I’m an adult. I can navigate this just fine.”

“Are you _sure_ about that? Because from where I’m standing, it seems like you’ve mostly just avoided navigating this for nine and a half years and then had sex with him again.”

“And now I’m confronting it all, thanks to you,” Jon says, dry.

“You’re welcome,” Lovett says, pleased.

Jon takes a sip of his coffee, and looks down at his phone, which has been lighting up with notifications since they started this conversation. He scrolls through them, deeming nothing important enough to reply right now. Lovett is doing something on his phone, tapping at the screen incessantly. “Hey, so, you and Ronan,” Jon says.

“Have been romantically involved since 2011, I’m aware,” Lovett says, not even looking up from his phone.

“Is that all?”

“We’re not secretly married, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Lovett says. “The ability to call Ronan Farrow my husband is not the end all, be all of my life, Jon.”

Jon doesn’t say anything, because he knows Lovett well enough by now to know that he’s not done with this, that he definitely has more to say, but he’s always kept his relationship with Ronan close to him. It’s always been completely up to him when he talked about certain things in their relationship, and he’s never been afraid to shut Jon and Tommy down when he feels like they’re asking too much.

All of this is to say, marriage seems like a touchy subject, and there’s probably a reason why.

“I asked Ronan to marry me once,” Lovett says, eventually. “It was casual and impulsive, like, I didn’t even have a ring. I just asked. I never thought I’d have this thing to begin with, and there it was, I had it and even though he’s never here, it was still _so good_ that I wanted more than what it already was. I did want to marry him, I still do want to. This was three years ago, maybe, but I still did it. It’s dumb.”

“It’s not dumb.”

“He didn’t say no, but he didn’t say yes either. It’s dumb because I’m so happy with him that I don’t even need to be married to him, but I still want to be.”

“Have you talked about it since you—”

“Can we please talk about something else?” Lovett says, abrupt.

Jon nods. “I’m around if you ever do want to talk about this again. Our situations are a lot more similar than I thought.”

It’s true, that Jon went into this conversation thinking that Lovett and Ronan’s relationship couldn’t possibly be anything like his and Tommy’s, and they still aren’t, really. But that question of marriage is something they have in common, the way it’s not really a guarantee for either of them despite how badly Lovett clearly wants it, and how Jon knows it’s what he wants.

Lovett tries for a smile, and it’s not his real smile, but it’s enough for Jon to know that Lovett isn’t actually mad at him or anything. “Thanks,” he says, and Jon knows he means it.

“Anytime,” Jon says, and they move on then. They talk about work, things they have coming up in the next week, and Lovett eventually orders Postmates once Jon starts replying to emails. Jon keeps thinking about the conversation they had, the way it had been much easier than he’d expected when he said _I think I loved him then, and I know I love him now_.

He thinks about how ten years ago, he sealed his fate against his best judgement, how things could have played out so differently without this looming expectation, and just how much it’s going to fucking hurt if something changes between now and New Year’s.

 

 

Everything goes back to normal after that, like Jon hadn’t told Lovett about his and Tommy’s ten-year plan, like Jon hadn’t had sex with Tommy, like nothing even happened.  Despite that, it doesn’t really feel normal. He doesn’t think he’s making up the way Tommy’s been quieter around him, but no one else has noticed anything being off so maybe it really is all in his head.

A month passes, and then two months pass, and nothing changes.

Whatever’s going on, it doesn’t change the fact that New Year’s is about a month away now, and Tommy went on a date last week, and he has a friend from college trying to set him up on a blind date next week, and Jon has to hear all about this. He never has anything to contribute to these conversations. Not actively dating, not actively looking, hung up on one person for just about as long as he’s known him and just kind of—stuck. He tries to ignore the looks Lovett gives him sometimes when Tommy talks about a date because it feels like pity now that Lovett knows, and Jon doesn’t want that.

This—whatever _this_ is, really—is their normal now, and Jon hates that he let it get so fucked up so close to the end, but it’s not like it was entirely his doing, it’s not like Tommy tried to stop it from happening, because he _didn’t_. Tommy wanted it too, Tommy initiated, and now, after everything, Tommy is pulling back.

They’re recording ads with about a week until their Christmas break, and Jon tries to focus on reading, but Tommy keeps looking at him. He’s reading copy about buying new underwear to ring in the New Year, and it’s by far the hardest one to read in a string of New Year’s related copy. There’s no doubt in Jon’s mind that Tommy’s staring has everything to do with that. By the time he finishes the fifth ad, his focus is completely shot, and he’s more than happy to sit back while Lovett and Tommy do their ads, scrolling through his phone and only chiming in occasionally.

Tommy leans back in his chair once they finish his ads. “Lot of New Year’s copy today,” he says.

“It’s coming up soon,” Lovett says. “Should I plan on attending a wedding in the near future?”

Jon freezes and his phone falls from his hands, hitting the desk with a loud smack. “Lovett, that was—”

“He _knows_?” Tommy asks.

This is how it ends, like, actually ends. Tommy is mad and Jon’s going to have to move on now. He’s going to have to figure out what happens next and he—isn’t ready for that.

“I’m sorry, Tom,” Jon says.

“Is this not, like, something I should know?” Lovett asks.

“I didn’t think so,” Tommy says, pointedly. “How did you find out?”

“You should tell him why I know,” Lovett says directly to Jon, and Jon has never wanted to disappear from a situation more than he does right now.

“Can we please talk about something else?” Jon says.

“Why do you always do that?” Tommy asks.

“Do what?”

“Change the subject!” Tommy says, exasperated. “You, too,” he points at Lovett. “Whether it’s about Ronan or whatever the fuck you’re being all cryptic about, Favs. When did we stop talking about shit? Or, like, when did you guys start keeping it all from me?”

Tommy sounds hurt, Jon realizes. Confused and frustrated and hurt, and it’s Jon’s fault, too.

“Because I don’t need you guys thinking that I’m always one bad day away from breaking up with Ronan just because we’ve done a lot of long distance,” Lovett says.

“Are you?” Jon asks.

“No,” Lovett says, rolling his eyes. “He’s moving in with me, you know that.”

Jon nods, and Tommy’s looking at him like he’s expecting some kind of response. Jon doesn’t have the time he wants to think this out. He has a split second to decide, and then he’s asking Lovett to leave the studio, give them some time alone.

Lovett squeezes Jon’s shoulder encouragingly, and calls for all of the dogs to leave the studio with him. Jon kind of wishes Leo had stayed behind.

“You gonna try changing the subject on me again?” Tommy says. Jon knows he intended it as a joke, but with the tension between them it falls flat. “Jon, seriously, what the fuck is going on?”

“Remember the night we slept together? Back in October,” Jon says. Tommy nods, and he’s about to respond when Jon cuts him off. “Let me just—say all of this first. So, that was the night I told Lovett about the marriage pact. He called me out for always turning people down, and I, uh. He figured me out, and it was so fucking stupid in the first place to, like, tell people I wasn’t single instead of just being honest. So I had to tell Lovett because he was asking questions and I couldn’t avoid it anymore.”

“How much does he know?”

“More than you do, I think,” Jon says, and he draws a breath in, shaky.

“What does that mean?” Tommy asks, sighing.

“There’s just some stuff that he knows,” Jon says. “It’s really not a big deal.”

“Is it really so terrible that you can’t tell me, though?”

No, Jon thinks, loving you isn’t terrible. He just shakes his head. “I just—don’t know.”

“You’re doing that thing again,” Tommy says. “Talking around stuff, avoiding it.”

Jon’s been vaguely preparing for this conversation for the last ten years, but that doesn’t make it any easier. Tommy’s been so—unreadable tonight. Jon can usually read his face, can get a feel for the way Tommy’s feeling in a situation, is pretty good at knowing exactly how Tommy might react to something, but right now, Jon’s feeling pretty lost.

“This isn’t exactly an easy conversation for me to have with you, Tom,” Jon says.

“Just talk to me! I’m not even mad that you told Lovett, I’m just trying to figure out what the hell you’re not saying.”

“I love you,” Jon says quietly, slowly, calculated. “That’s—that’s what Lovett knows that you don’t.”

The room feels really still. Jon feels rooted to his fucking seat, he can’t move or speak and there’s a pit in his stomach, a vaguely sickening feeling that won’t go away. His confession is out in the open, hanging between them and he can’t take it back now.

“You—how long?” Tommy asks.

“How long has he known? Or how long in general?” Jon asks and Tommy just nods, which is the worst kind of affirmative right now. “Lovett’s known for two months, maybe? The day after you and I slept together was when I told him everything. And as for how long in general, uh, ten years, give or take?” He ducks his head to hide the flush creeping up his cheeks, bright red and embarrassingly so.

“Ten years—jesus, Jon,” Tommy mumbles.

“I knew, back when we made the pact,” Jon says, because he’s going now, and he won’t stop until it’s all out. “It was—you tried to kiss me that night, and I knew that if I didn’t pull back I would have just gotten hurt. Maybe not right away, but at some point because I was just a rebound to you and we were both drunk when it happened. I already knew I loved you, and I couldn’t set myself up to fall and then get hurt like that.”

“I wouldn’t have hurt you,” Tommy says, defensive. Jon isn’t even surprised that of everything, that’s what Tommy is choosing to focus on. “I’m not like that, I would have never. I knew what I wanted, Jon”

“You know that now, yeah, but maybe you didn’t ten years ago,” Jon says. “Even if you did, maybe it wouldn’t have even worked out. There was too much to risk.”

“And now is different, somehow?”

“We’re ten years older. We’ve both dated other people. Hell, I almost fucking proposed to someone. We’re both really different people now, Tom. The same, but different, and I’m still just as in love with you now as I was then. I’ve held out this long because I wanted this to work. Who knows, maybe we’re both in a better place for it to work.”

“There’s a lot of maybes,” Tommy says.

Jon nods. “Or maybe we just call it a draw. We end the pact, go back to the way things were a few months ago, I try to move on.”

“No,” Tommy says, too quickly. “That’s not—I don’t want that.”

“Okay,” Jon says slowly. “What do you want, then?” There’s no anger in his voice, a softness where there should be rough edges. Jon’s just sick of the weirdness and the way they’re not quite fighting, but not exactly having a productive conversation either. “This can’t just be something I decide on my own.”

“I want time,” Tommy says eventually. “And space. Just for a little while. I have a lot to wrap my head around right now.”

“Take all the time you need,” Jon says.

“I’m gonna, uh, go work on some sponsor stuff,” Tommy says, standing up.

“See ya,” Jon says.

“Thanks,” Tommy says when he’s standing in the doorway, about to leave the studio. “For being so honest.”

Jon just smiles, small and a little forced, because he doesn’t think he could even begin to come up with a way to respond to that with as little time as he has to. Saying you’re welcome doesn’t feel right. Jon said _I love you_ , Tommy said _thank you_ and _I want space_ , and—Jon saw this coming, is the thing. Saw it coming from a mile away, called it months ago when he realized how much this was going to hurt if it all came crashing down. He knew he’d be here, and for once, he wishes he’d be wrong about this.

He’s about three seconds from breaking down when Tommy finally turns around and leaves. It takes a few minutes, but he’s able to calm himself down enough that he doesn’t cry.

He works out of the studio for the rest of the day and doesn’t really talk to anyone outside of necessary interactions. At the end of the day, Jon leaves in record time without another word, or glance, toward Tommy.

Space.

That’s gonna take some getting used to.

 

 

The hardest part about giving someone space, Jon realizes about a day into this whole thing, is that it’s virtually impossible when that person is also your business partner, officemate and best friend. Jon’s trying, he really is, but he didn’t realize just how intertwined he and Tommy were until that all went away. The awkward tension mostly goes unnoticed anyway, and if coworkers are picking up on it, they aren’t mentioning it.

That day passes, and then another, and then over a week does, and Jon’s still not used to it.

He gets to the office on the last day before their break for the holidays a little later than usual, and when he gets there, Tommy and Lovett are in their office with the door closed. It’s all glass, so Jon can see in anyway, but they don’t really notice him, and Jon can’t really hear what they’re saying aside from a few things. He hears them say his own name, and Tommy looks _sad_ , like something is definitely wrong. If this were any normal day, Jon would go in there and find out what’s wrong, and then try to fix it, but this situation isn’t normal. It’s nothing like they’re used to, so Jon turns around and goes into the studio to work until it seems okay to get to his desk. Whatever’s going on, it has to do with him, and Jon shouldn’t—no, he _can’t_ —get in the middle of that.

Lovett comes into the studio a little while later and leans against the desk. “You can come into the office now.”

“What?” Jon says, locking his iPad and taking an earbud out.

“I saw you come in earlier,” Lovett says. “Tommy and I aren’t talking about that anymore, so you can come into the office.”

“He looked upset,” Jon says.

“He’s got a lot going on,” Lovett says. “I shouldn’t even be telling you this.”

“I know he wants space, but it’s not that easy. We’re too fucking connected.”

“He’s not exactly having a great time either, Jon,” Lovett says.

“Why won’t he just talk to me about it, then?” Jon asks.

“For someone who literally wrote words for the President of the United States as his career, you’re really having a hard time grasping the definition of ‘space’ and ‘time’,” Lovett says, completely ignoring Jon’s question. “Give him time. It sucks, I know, I have to sit in an office with you two all day. Just think about how you’d react to being told all of the shit that you told him last week. It’s going to take a little while for him to figure out what all of that means and what he wants. He’s reevaluating an entire friendship right now.”  

“Nothing has to change. Does he know that? We don’t have to—fuck, he’s going to reject me, isn’t he? I’ll take a rejection right now if it means he’ll talk to me again,” Jon says, and he hates everything about it. Tommy rejecting him is like, the worst of all worst case scenarios. It’s the complete opposite of what he was hoping to gain from telling Tommy everything.

“Let him do this on his own terms,” Lovett says. “I’ve already said way too much, so I’m gonna go, but the office is safe now if you want to come back.”

“Thanks,” Jon says, but he unlocks his iPad and doesn’t really make an effort to move from his chair in the studio, even after Lovett leaves.

He wasn’t expecting to feel this _scared_ about everything. Rejection is one thing, and in the long run he can handle being rejected by Tommy, even if Tommy doesn’t let him down easy. It’ll take time to get over it, but he can handle that. It’s the thought that nothing will be the same because of it that scares him so much. He and Tommy have spent a long time working on this friendship without it being anything more than just a friendship. Jon’s friendship with Tommy is one of the best things he has, full stop.

 

Christmas comes and goes. His mom asks about Tommy and he says things are great, and Tommy’s doing really well; it’s not technically a lie, except for how things are less than great right now. Jon knows that Andy can tell something’s wrong, and for once, he’s not playing the prying younger brother. Andy knows that Jon’s had a thing for Tommy for a while, and he’s been teasing Jon about making a move for just as long. Jon appreciates not having to answer any more questions about Tommy right now.

Tommy doesn’t reject Jon, or do anything at all, really. He texts Jon once separately on Christmas, just to say Merry Christmas but other than that, the only active text thread involving Tommy is the group chat with Lovett so he’s expecting the same radio silence once they’re back in the office on Tuesday. Tommy gave him no indication that he had enough time and space.

When he gets back to work, there’s a coffee on his desk from Dunkin’, exactly how Jon usually drinks it. He’s one of the first people to show up so in theory, figuring out who put it there shouldn’t be that hard, and once he spots an identical cup on Tommy’s desk, it isn’t hard at all. Tommy didn’t say anything to him when he walked in, though, he barely even looked up from his laptop screen. He refuses to overthink a kind gesture that may not even _be_ because of Tommy. Nope, not overthinking it.

“Accept my Airdrop,” Tommy says, looking up from his computer. A good portion of the day has passed in silence. They’re recording in an hour and Jon still doesn’t feel even halfway prepared for it, an outline sitting unfinished on his computer while he juggled at least ten other things around the office, trying to make up for the fact that half of their staff is taking days off for the holiday week. He hadn’t been looking at his laptop when it pinged with an Airdrop notification to begin with.

“Me?” Jon asks, even though he’s the only other person in the office right now. Tommy hasn’t talked to him in over a week, and Jon’s reflex to automatically assume Tommy is talking to him has nearly disappeared. He hates how much he’s had to get used to Tommy not filling the spaces he used to.

“Who else would I be talking to? I finished an outline for today’s pod. There are just a few blanks that you could fill in better than I could,” Tommy says.

Jon clicks ‘accept’ on the Airdrop notification and reads through what Tommy sent. It’s—miles better than anything Jon would have thrown together right now, and there’s no way Tommy could have known that, could he? Not unless he’s a mind reader, because Jon hadn’t actually said anything about writing the outline.

“Thanks,” Jon says, sincere. “This is actually more helpful than you know.”

Tommy shrugs. “It’s the least I could do.”

“Are we, um,” Jon starts, but then he stops, trying to carefully choose his words so he doesn’t fuck this up. “We’re not—am I reading this wrong? Do you still want space or has there been enough space?”

“I think I still need some time,” Tommy says. “But not talking to you fucking sucks, man.”

“We can adjust?” Jon asks. “Blend you needing time with just being ourselves again.”

“Adjust, yeah,” Tommy says, but he doesn’t sound too happy about it. “I’m sorry about, like, how long it’s taken, but I think i just—”

“Need more time, I get it,” Jon says. “Seriously, dude, take your time. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

“Thank you,” Tommy says.

It’s finally a step in the right direction.

 

 

If that’s one step, the next few days are like walking a 5k. Tommy is still keeping a little bit of distance, kind of, but when he’s not being distant, it’s like nothing’s changed at all. Tommy keeps doing things for Jon, unwarranted, nice things, and Jon isn’t complaining. He’s just confused.

Like, the day after the first coffee and the outline Tommy airdropped, Jon comes into work to find a coffee on his desk again. He’s recording an interview when Tommy slacks him that he’s taking Leo for a walk, and when he gets out of the studio, the mess of papers on his desk have been neatly organized by who Jon can only assume is Tommy. The next day, Jon’s iPad charger breaks out of nowhere. He sends an SOS text to Lovett and Tommy, but Lovett isn’t much help from Connecticut, and Jon’s iPad is probably 20 minutes away from dying.

 _I’m on my way in now. i picked up a charger for you,_ Tommy texts to Jon privately a little while later.

 _LIFESAVER_ , Jon sends back.

Tommy brings coffee again when he gets in the office, putting an iced latte down on Jon’s desk with the new charger.

“What do I owe you for the charger?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tommy says. “I never got you a Christmas gift, so,” he shrugs.

Jon sends Tommy $20 later on and Tommy doesn’t send it back to Jon, or mention it at all.

 

 

On Friday, Jon’s stuck late at the office, finishing up an article he’s writing for the website. He’s pretty sure he’s the last person here. The motion-sensor lights in the main room have been off for at least an hour, but Jon doesn’t want to leave until this is done. He knows that as soon as he leaves his focus will disappear completely. His phone is on Lovett’s desk across the room, and he puts his laptop on do not disturb; it’s kind of excessive, but he knows that this lockdown writing mode is the only way he’ll get out of here at a reasonable time. He’s still a frustrated writer, that part of him hasn’t changed at all even after years of being detached from writing professionally..

He’s close to finishing up when the motion-sensor lights flicker on and Jon looks up from his screen; the sun setting has darkened the office so much and Jon hadn’t even realized, didn’t even think to turn on some of the lights.

Tommy flips the light switch on when he pushes the door to their office open, and—Tommy’s here?

“You weren’t answering texts,” Tommy says.

“My phone is on Lovett’s desk,” Jon says, lowering his laptop screen. “I’ve been writing.”

“I figured,” Tommy says. He crosses the room and drops a plastic bag on Jon’s desk. “There’s fried dumplings and chicken and broccoli in there.”

“You didn’t have to get me dinner,” Jon says, but he’s smiling as he rips into the bag.

“I know how you get when you’re writing. It’s not a big deal,” Tommy shrugs.

It feels like a bigger deal than it should, probably. It’s been a few days since Tommy went from barely having a presence in Jon’s life anymore to slowly reintegrating himself in the places that feel right. Tommy going out of his way to bring Jon dinner feels like a step too far, when six months ago Jon wouldn’t have even questioned this. Tommy is—a really good friend. That’s all it is.

If there was something to be reading into here, it would be more obvious. Getting takeout for each other was something that happened a lot back in the White House.

Tommy is just a really good friend. Jon thinks that if he tells himself that enough times, he might actually believe that this isn’t something more.

 

 

Jon doesn’t see Tommy again until New Year’s Eve. He wakes up with a knot in his stomach and a text from Tommy already on his phone.

_Wanna get lunch? We can take the dogs to the beach too_

Jon rubs his eyes and takes a second to wake up before he replies. _Sounds good, come over at noon? We can drive together_

He gets out of bed a few minutes later, makes a cup of coffee, and does not overthink this.

Getting lunch and taking the dogs to the beach is a fairly regular occurrence, and the fact that its New Year’s Eve shouldn’t change that. Except—Jon expected to feel more sure on New Year’s Eve, sure about where he stands with Tommy, about where they go from here, if they’re actually going to honor a pact they made while they were drunk ten years ago. There are a lot of questions, and not a lot of answers.

He’s definitely overthinking this. Typical.  

 

 

Tommy is early, because of course he is, and Jon’s barely dressed by the time Tommy lets himself in through the back door, pulling a t-shirt over his head on his way down the stairs. Tommy’s holding a cup of coffee, and there’s another one on the counter—presumably Jon’s. Leo and Lucca are chasing each other in circles around the ground floor of the house; Jon can’t see them right now, but he can faintly hear them pattering on the wood floors in the living room.

“Hey,” Tommy says.

“Happy almost New Year,” Jon says.

“I got you coffee,” Tommy says, nodding toward the paper cup.

“Thanks,” Jon says, walking around the kitchen to take the cup. “Ready to go?”

 

 

Everything about the afternoon is so perfectly normal, but Jon’s still overthinking everything, like—he swears there were a few times while they were walking on the sand where Tommy almost held his hand. They talked about the party later, things for work, and football while the dogs ran around and played with each other. This is just a regular day off, but their hands bumped together a few times, and Tommy seemed hesitant to pull his back every time.

Once the dogs tire themselves out, they head back toward Jon’s car. Tommy picks a place for lunch, a small deli near his house that they both like. Tommy is a little jumpier than usual, if anything at all feels different, but mostly it’s the same as it usually is with them. Tommy pays for both of their sandwiches after they eat, which Jon figures is just a convenience thing more than anything else. They’ll settle up later, or something.

“How much do I owe you?” Jon asks when they’re driving back to his house.

“Don’t worry about it,” Tommy says.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Tommy nods. “It’s on me.”

Jon nods and lets it go for now, but when they’re back, hanging out in his backyard, Jon sends Tommy $17 for lunch. Tommy doesn’t notice his phone even vibrate because he’s reading a book, one of Jon’s that he only ever reads when he’s over, that he swears he’ll finish eventually. He only looks up every few minutes to take a sip from the bottle in front of him.

It’s quiet, but it’s comfortable. Jon’s on his iPad absently scrolling through Twitter with Leo curled up at his feet. They still have a few hours until they’re supposed to head to Lovett’s house. He isn’t sure how much time has passed when Tommy dog-ears the page he was on and stands up.

“Want another?” he asks, motioning toward Jon’s empty bottle.

Jon shakes his head. “Just water?”

Tommy nods and goes inside with both of their empty bottles. Jon’s phone vibrates where it’s face down on the table, and when he picks it up, the screen lights up with a Cash App notification—$17 from Tommy for ‘it was a date.’

And Jon damn near drops his phone.

It was a _date_.

Jon just went on what was presumably a first date with Tommy, and he didn’t even _know it_. Nothing about it felt different enough that Jon would question it. It felt like every other lazy afternoon where they ended up getting lunch somewhere.

Jon has been on plenty of dates, and it hits him that maybe nothing struck him as different with this afternoon because all of the dates that really stick out in his head are the really bad ones.

Maybe a good date doesn’t have to be different. Maybe it just has to be him and Tommy, their dogs, and a completely standard day off together. Maybe a good date doesn’t even have to be defined as such until after the fact. Maybe this is the start of a lot of good dates together.

He stares at the notification for what feels like an eternity before he stands up and goes inside. Both dogs follow him in, but head straight for the living room once they’re in the house. He’s trying to collect his thoughts in a way that makes sense, because there’s no avoiding this anymore.

Tommy’s in the kitchen, leaning against the island like he’d expected Jon to come inside.

“I’ve always been under the impression that when people go on dates, both of the people know it’s a date,” Jon says.

“That’s, uh,” Tommy says. He’s blushing furiously, looking down at the marble of the countertops. Even his ears are a pinkish-red. “You’re right.”

Jon walks around to the other side of the island and stands across from Tommy, sliding onto one of the stools. “But we just went on a date, apparently.”

“I wanted it to be one,” Tommy says. “I was going to talk to you about it, I just—”

“Why didn’t you just ask me?”

“It’s dumb,” Tommy says. “There was a part of me that thought you would have said no, I guess. You literally told me that you love me, and I still thought maybe I took took much time and you would say no.”

 _I do love you_ , Jon almost says, but doesn’t. “I’ve been so confused this entire week, because you got me dinner and brought me coffee every morning and replaced my iPad charger and wrote outlines for me. It felt really sudden after all of the time and space. And now we—went on a date?”

“I wanted to prove to myself that I could be a halfway decent boyfriend to you before I asked,” Tommy says finally, after a few seconds of silence.

“So all of that this week was, uh, Boyfriend Tommy?”

Tommy shrugs. “I guess.”

“Boyfriend Tommy isn’t that different from real Tommy,” Jon says.

“Boyfriend Tommy is—real. I mean, he can be,” Tommy says, looking up and meeting Jon’s eyes for the first time. He smiles and Jon smiles back. It’s—a little overwhelming, being this close to something that he spent so many years convincing himself he would never have.

It’s harder than he expected to figure out what else to say in the moment. It’s one thing to think about how this moment might go, but another to be mid-conversation and realize that he has no idea how to articulate what he wants. Every time he thought about this, the words always came easily and he wasn’t nervous, he just—said it. But this is real now, and everything he thought might happen isn’t. His hands are shaking a little, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever find the right words, but what _are_ the right words, when Jon already told Tommy the biggest part of it weeks ago?

“I just want you, Tommy,” Jon says. “I like Boyfriend Tommy, but I also just like you. You’re sweet, and funny, and you know me better than anyone else. That’s just _you_. That’s how you’ve always been to me and that’s the kind of person I want to be with. I want to be your boyfriend and go on dates that I know are dates, but I also don’t want everything that we were to disappear because we’re calling each other boyfriend and going on dates. All of that is too important to me.”

“You’re still my best friend,” Tommy says. It’s the reassurance that Jon was hoping for, secretly. “You were my best friend before I realized that this was a lot more than a friendship. After you told me how you felt, I started to think about what I wanted, and every damn time, it was you. It’s been there for a long time, the way I feel about you, it just—took me a while to notice it all. Everything you say I am to you, you are to me, Jon.”

“That’s—good,” Jon breathes. “I don’t want to fuck this up, but I’m so done with being careful.”

“Fuck it, then,” Tommy says. “We both want the same thing. It’s _us_. We already know we’re going to be great together, so let’s just be fucking great together.”

Jon can’t help but laugh at that, a little watery. “Let’s be fucking great,” he echoes.

“Hey, Jon,” Tommy says, smiling. “You should come over here now.”

He isn’t even that far away, but Jon gets it, so he rounds the corner of the island, meets Tommy halfway until Tommy’s hand is on his hip, pulling him in closer.

“Smooth,” Jon smirks, and Tommy leans in.

Jon doesn’t hesitate to kiss him back this time; he snaps out of the shock that this is happening quick enough that it’s just _exhilarating_. He doesn’t know how something that he’s so used to can feel new like this. Everything feels new in a good way, in the _best_ way, and once all of the heightened emotions pass, Jon feels relieved that he hasn’t gone and fucked this up the way he thought he might.

Somehow, Jon ends up pressed between Tommy and the counter, and it’s nothing like the last time they were in this position, when they were both a little drunk and following impulses they wouldn’t speak of sober.

Jon’s thought about having to tell Tommy how he feels a lot, and the words always came easy, and he wasn’t nervous at all, but he never got this far. He’s glad now, because nothing he could have imagined would even come close to the way it feels to actually be making out with Tommy like this in his fucking kitchen.

“We should go upstairs,” Tommy says. He’s leaning against Jon, trying to catch his breath.

“Yeah?” Jon asks.

He’ll take the way Tommy kisses him again, hard, before taking his hand as a yes.

 

 

(At 11:53, Jon leads Tommy into Lovett’s backyard, saying he needs some fresh air. It’s not technically untrue, but there was one more thing he needed to talk to Tommy about before tonight ends.

They ended up getting to Lovett’s house eventually, a small miracle considering how often they got distracted by each other’s presence in the hours before. It wasn’t hard for anyone to figure out that something had changed between the two of them, what with the hand holding and the way they stayed never really left each other’s orbits the whole night.

“Everything okay?” Tommy asks. He puts his bottle down on the railing of the deck.

“Everything’s great,” Jon grabs his hand, reassuring. “I promise. I just wanted to talk quickly.”

“So talk,” Tommy smirks.

“It’s 11:54. Ten years ago, you agreed to marry me if we were both single today. It’s been ten years, Tom.”

“Not to point out the obvious, but we’re not single,” Tommy says. “We never said anything about what would happen if we dated each other.”

“I didn’t think this was a possibility, honestly,” Jon admits, quietly.

“It’s possible,” Tommy says, squeezing Jon’s hand. “Really fucking possible.”

For all the dwelling Jon has done over the past ten years, relying on this pact as what may have been his only shot to have Tommy, he surprises himself a little bit when he says, “Fuck the pact.”

“Yeah?”

“We ended up together anyway, right? Nothing like the last minute to really scare a guy, but we might as well enjoy the ride,” Jon says. “See where life takes us without having to get married before either of us are ready for that.”

 _Even though I’m certain you’re the one_ , goes unsaid but Jon knows he’ll say it someday, when the time is right for it.

“Sounds like a plan,” Tommy says. He picks up his bottle with his free hand. “To a new beginning.”

Jon lifts his solo cup with his own free hand, smiling wider than he thought was even _possible._  “To us,” he says, and they toast, both taking a long sip afterwards.

Lovett pokes his head out the door at 11:59. “One minute,” he says. They walk back into the living room together, still holding hands. Everyone’s gathered in there, waiting for the ten-second countdown to begin.

“I’m really happy you two figured it out,” Lovett says over everyone else’s noise.

“Thank you,” Tommy says, for both of them. “Thanks for being nosy, I guess? None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t gotten all of that out of Jon a few months ago.”

Lovett opens his mouth to say something, but there are only ten seconds to midnight, and Ronan pulls him in closer before he can say anything else.

Jon lets go of Tommy’s hand to hold onto his hip, keeping them both steady, almost flush against each other. “Three,” he whispers, for only Tommy to hear.

“Two,” Tommy says back.

They miss “one” because Tommy’s already pulled Jon in, kissing him over the sounds of other people yelling, “Happy New Year!” and the fireworks outside.

When they pull back, Tommy looks at Jon like he’s the only person in the world, and Jon can’t see himself, but he’s pretty sure he must be looking at Tommy the same way.

“Happy New Year, Tom,” he says.

“Happy New Year, Jon.”)

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! <3 
> 
> i'm over on tumblr @ofspringreturning and twitter @matbarzaI (the L is a capital i!)


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